He looks at me and says, ‘What’s it like to be a slave’?
Relived the book – well…except for the exciting bits. This is above Rangipo Hut, at Rangipo Desert.
Installation art? Or just a load of old junk? I would prefer the hair dryers not to be covered in algae and cobwebs. Sometimes I feel insulted at installation art. These were thrown in a pile in a derelict shed. Comments?
I grew her from a wee sapling and now here she is all grown up and going to the ball.
Who wouldn’t be inspired to paint living here? French Bay, Titirangi. Colin, Ann and four kids in a one bedroom bach in the 1950s.